


One Way Ticket to the Freak Show

by writing1swat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boyking!Sam, Collars, Demons, Evil Sam Winchester, Hell, Humilation, M/M, non-con, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing1swat/pseuds/writing1swat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to this prompt: <strong>http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/79365.html?thread=29562629#t29562629</strong></p><p>Just a regular day in Hell with boyking!Sam and his reluctant toy. (Outsider POV into the pairing boyking!Sam/Dean)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way Ticket to the Freak Show

**Author's Note:**

> A pretty old prompt in the spn kink meme that made me want to try my hand at an Evil Sam. There's really nothing all that redeeming to him here.

It’s funny how wrong humans have conceived the idea of what Hell looks like. They think it’s just this one massive pit of eternal fire and pain and torment lying under the earth’s very crust, where the wicked and non-believers go after death. They’re only partially right. The wicked do come here once they die. But Hell isn’t beneath earth’s soil. It’s not anywhere near earth. Neither is Heaven for that matter, though Carnivale has no idea where that one is actually located. 

He only knows that Hell isn’t even in the same dimension as earth yet humans talk about it as if they know everything about it, as if they’ve been here before, which he knows for certain most of them haven’t or else they wouldn’t be able to come back to earth as humans. 

Hell is more a series of complex mazes with cities and pillars and spiraling staircases. In fact it isn’t all that different from the structures on earth, as far as Carnivale could tell last he visited, only more demons roaming around. He hailed for a cab and told the driver he had a meeting with the King. They weaved their way through other cars and demons on the streets, coming up to a lone warehouse with a shredded gate. Carnivale got out and thanked the cab driver.

He walked briskly to the building and opened the door. It was dark inside and full of crates and boxes. Carnivale went straight to the back searching for the trapdoor. He found it in a few minutes and crouched down to open it. He climbed down the stairs.

There were a lot of places like this that had trapdoors that led underground. A few led to dungeons where humans were tortured and others, like this one, led to the King’s throne room. Once he was down on level ground again, Carnivale was met with an oddly complex maze of tunnels. Carnivale thought for a moment before taking the far right tunnel. He ducked his head, almost having to crawl through in order to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. He heard that the King, once he rightfully took his throne in Hell, redesigned the castle.

This seems almost a replica of the human sewer system (Carnivale may have visited once or twice on vacation).

After almost an hour of twists and turns, Carnivale finds himself entering a hallway of brimstone. It’s brightly lit with torches unlike the dark sewer tunnels. Carnivale follows along the wall, peering curiously into passing cells. There’s a girl with long blond hair that looks unwashed curled in the corner of one. Her dress looks shredded in some places and there’s splatters of blood. She looks up at him with dull hazel eyes and bares her teeth at him. Carnivale moves on.

The next one holds a boy with brown hair matted down with dirt and blood. He’s mostly naked and trembling. There’s a collar around his neck. He doesn’t look up at all.

Carnivale passes four more cells that holds a man in his late fifties, a young woman that doesn’t look older than thirty, a boy that is barely eighteen and another man that is past forty. A killer, a whore, a sociopath, and a suicide case. 

Carnivale makes it to the throne room ten minutes later.

The throne room is big and much more brightly lit than the hall. There’s barely any furnishing in here and it feels somewhat cold and impersonal. A red carpet is placed in the center, the end of it coming under the throne. Carnivale can see a few plants placed in corners. They’re gray and dead looking and he’s sure if he gets a closer look he can see it housing a ton of maggots.

“Ah, Carnivale. Just the demon I wanted to see.”

Carnivale turns his attention to the throne. A boy with brown curling hair and hazel eyes smiles brightly at him. He’s dressed in a simple tee shirt and jeans and if Carnivale didn’t know any better, he would have wondered how a human came to be in a place like this without chains and a collar, without torment and grief in his eyes, defiance all but beaten out from the times spent on the rack. But Carnivale does know better. He doesn’t wonder.

Instead he gets down on his knees almost immediately and bows his head in respect. “My lord.”

It only takes a moment before he hears his King say, “You can get up, Carnivale.”

Carnivale rises. He notices then the King petting the top of dark blond curls. The King senses Carnivale’s curiosity and smiles. The demon is sure that once upon a time that smile would have looked bright and childish and innocent. He watches in silence as the King curls his fingers in the tangles of hair and tugs, so that Carnivale can get a glimpse of angry, defiant hazel eyes and plush open lips.

“It looks like we’ll be having company today,” the King says cheerfully to the naked man, “but don’t worry, Dean, it won’t slow down your training. In fact, let’s start with your next lesson right now.”

The King gestures Dean forward but Carnivale sees the tension in his shoulders and the way he refuses to move is a show of defiance. Carnivale is a little impressed but that doesn’t last long as the King rolls his eyes and huffs, pulling on the leash that connects to the human’s collar. Dean is pulled forward with an ease that seems to contradict with the way the human is fighting to get away.

“Dean, come on. Haven’t we been over this before?” The King says gently as he pulls Dean closer still, until the human’s open mouth is brushing the bulge of his jeans. “There’s no escaping, remember? This is your place, Dean.” He runs a gentle hand through blond curls. “You have to accept it.”

Dean squirms in his hold before the King says simply, “Stay.” A flex of power spreads through the room. Carnivale feels it shudder in his mind and body. Dean lays pliant under the King’s touch, a marionette with its strings cut. The King smiles down at him, warm and kind, as he eases down his jeans, letting Dean breathe into the musk of his bare skin.

“Don’t worry, big brother. You’re going to enjoy this,” the King whispers, his voice filled with childish glee. He pushes his brother’s head down so that he’s choking on cock. The King sighs contently before looking at Carnivale. “So what can I do you for today?”

Carnivale gets down to business.


End file.
